Stillness
by fullmetalgrigori
Summary: "It's the stillness that scares him...and yet it draws him in with a morbid curiosity at the same time."


**A/N: This is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for ages. I finally put it down on paper last week, and finished double-checking it tonight. Enjoy!**

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><p>It's the stillness that scares him.<p>

She's been sitting in front of the crackling fire for two hours now, just staring into the flames. She hasn't moved once since she finished her Charms homework, now resting primly on the coffee table just behind her. He's been watching her, waiting for her to stand up and make her way across the room. He wants to talk to her, but isn't sure how she'd take to him just waltzing over. If she happens to pass by his spot (strategically placed to ensure that she'd have to), she couldn't blame him for talking to her, could she?

Of course, she probably would, but he thinks it would be worth it.

But she hasn't moved. And he's been watching very carefully. She hasn't shifted, hasn't twitched…he's not even sure that she's been blinking.

And that scares him.

He's a person of energy, constantly moving and shifting around. He fiddles with whatever he can reach, a habit that annoys anyone in the immediately vicinity. His eyes are always flicking around, always searching the room and its occupants (mostly for her). He fiddles with his hair when he doesn't have anything better to do with himself, to give him something to do. His mind always races around in circles, analyzing everything he sees, calculating every possibility. He always stands on the balls of his feet, ready to move, to run anywhere. His energy is relentless, always pouring off him in waves. Anyone standing near to him can feel it, and he has the unconscious effect of rejuvenating anyone near him. He is a body constantly in motion.

She is his complete opposite. She is still, contemplating every move that he would make on a whim. She can sit for hours, staring into nothing, not making a sound. He's always talking, loudly voicing every opinion that pops into his head. She'll be silent for a few moments before opening her mouth and saying something wise or profound. Anything she doesn't have to say she expresses in one look, usually full of dislike or puzzlement whenever it came to him. She doesn't make much excess movement if it's unnecessary. Sometimes he'll pass by her as she waits for a door to open in the hallways, and he won't even know she's there. Every move is thought out and planned beforehand. He doesn't think she's ever made an impulsive decision in her life.

Her ability to stand perfectly still and silent scares him. But it draws him in with a morbid curiosity at the same time.

Without even thinking about it, as most of his actions are, he gets to his feet and finds himself walking over to her. Ignoring the calls of his mates, he strides to the spot on the rug next to her, sitting down so their shoulders are touching. She sways to the side an infinitesimal amount in an attempt to distance herself. She doesn't look at him or even blink, just shifts enough so that they're not so close.

"How do you do it?" he asks, the words slipping out before he can stop himself. He curses his mouth, like he does after most of his statements to her.

She doesn't answer, just lifts an eyebrow in a puzzled way. She still won't look at him.

"How can you sit so still?" he elaborated, picking at the rug below them, not wanting to look at her.

She turns now, staring at him head-on. She looks surprised, and he can't blame her. Out of all the things he's ever said to her, this was by far the strangest. He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, coloring his face a hot red. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her mouth turn up in a small smile.

That's what makes him stay. If she'd reacted any other way, he would have hurriedly gotten up and left, probably to drown his embarrassment in firewhiskey. But she smiles at his question, so he stays.

"How do you stay so energetic?" she asks carefully, her expression half-amused.

He stares at her blankly. What kind of a question was that? He manages to use his miniscule self-control to keep himself from blurting that out, thankfully, and manages to find something else to say. "It's who I am." Truthfully, he thinks his answer is quite profound.

She smirks at him and turns back to the fire.

She's not being very helpful. It's clear that she intends for the conversation to be over, but he's doesn't want to leave just yet. But he doesn't know what to say.

"Teach me."

Apparently he does. He has no idea where the words came from, but they're out in the air before he can take them back.

She turns to face him again, shock written in every expression on her face. Her eyebrows have disappeared behind her fringe, and her mouth has fallen open slightly as she stares at him, lost for words.

His blush returns with a ferocity it didn't have before, and he avoids her gaze once again. What in the name of Merlin possessed him to say that?

"Are you serious?" she asked, uncharacteristically wasting her precious words.

Well, he couldn't every well say no without receiving a palm to the face. "Yes."

Her eyebrows make a reappearance and bunch together on her forehead. "I—why?"

He has no bloody idea. "Because I'm curious."

She looks incredulous now, her eyebrows retreating back under her fringe. She lets out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, staring at the hearth.

Now he just feels stupid.

She's looking at him again, her deep green eyes probing his face, searching for guile. Apparently she's unable to find any, because she turns to face him fully and says, "You'll be awful at staying still."

He bristles at her tone. "No I won't."

"You will."

He tries to sit still, to prove her wrong. After five seconds, he's back to picking the rug underneath him.

"Don't do that," she commands, glaring at his rebellious fingers.

"Sorry." He folds his hands in his lap and sits, staring at the fire. He lasts seven seconds this time before twisting his hands, playing with his fingers.

"You have to sit still," she says quietly, eyes staring pointedly at him.

"Right," he says quickly, stilling his movement. His next try is pathetic, only four seconds. He starts shifting this time, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth.

She doesn't even have to say anything this time. He stops himself, conscious of her eyes boring into his skull.

He tries a different tactic. He examines the rock surrounding the hearth, poring it over in his mind. His fourth attempt at stillness is an improvement, lasting a whole two minutes. Then he starts turning his head minutely, trying to get a look around the common room.

"You're getting better," she says quietly, watching him. "Try closing your eyes."

He obeys, staring at the inside of his eyelids. This is worse than before. He doesn't have anything to look at now. Inky blackness surrounds him, pressing on all sides. There's nothing to distract him from his thoughts. They sense this and start circling, like vultures waiting for their prey to kneel over and die. They start pecking at him. He has an essay he hasn't started yet, he needs to write to his mother, he performed dismally last Quidditch practice, You-Know-Who was an increasing threat to his parents…

He can't take it. He'd rather be scolded than face his predatory thoughts.

"You only lasted twenty-three seconds this time," she says, watching him as he opens his eyes.

"I don't think I can do this. I keep thinking about things that I'd rather not."

"That's where the stillness comes from. You accept your fears and worries, and they stop bothering you. You can start to relax when they're out of the way."

He's not sure if he wants to continue, if that's what it takes. "I don't—"

He lifts his eyes to meet her gaze. Suddenly, all he can see are her green eyes measuring him critically, but with a hint of respect. Perhaps she hadn't thought him so deep.

He tries to turn away, to leave, but some invisible force keeps him rooted to the spot. He keeps looking at her, his eyes sweeping over her face. His fingers, unconsciously tapping out a rhythm on his leg, still suddenly, and his slight shifting fades as he continues to watch her. She returns his gaze, a small amount of defiance shining back at him.

They sit there, staring at each other. He hungrily devours every detail of her face, scanning every inch of her. He counts every freckle sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. There's a small cluster to the right side of her nose that takes him a minute or two to fully catalog. A wisp of hair is falling out of her smooth braid, clinging to her cheek. She hasn't brushed it away (of course), and he has an overwhelming desire to tuck it behind her ear. His fingers almost twitch before he realizes that he can't move in this game. Her small pink lips are carefully arranged as a part in her neutral expression. He has another sudden desire, this time to lean over and kiss her, full on the mouth. He knows for certain that this would earn him a slap, not to mention he'd lose his chance to ever speak to her again. He settles for just looking at her, examining her every feature. He doesn't ever want to look away…and it scares him. She's the only person who can do this to him. He wonders if she knows.

He does much better this time. It's ten minutes before something happens. And surprisingly, it's not him who moves first. She must sense the thoughts behind his eyes, because she shifts ever so slightly, leaning her weight to one side before leaning back. He bites back a grin and keeps his face neutral. He continues to stare at her.

Four minutes and twenty-four seconds later, she moves again. Her fingers start twisting around for a few seconds before she stills them. Her gaze still hasn't left his face.

Two minutes and fifty-six seconds after that, she starts picking at the rug.

One minute and forty-one seconds later, she starts tapping her leg.

Three minutes and seventeen seconds after the tapping starts, she breaks eye contact. She looks down at her hands, and her eyes widen when she realizes what she's been doing.

He grins at her. "I think I'm getting better. You, on the other hand, might need some work." He stands up and looks down at her, still grinning like an idiot.

Her face follows him up, her neck craning to see him. "But…"

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Never mind," she mumbles, her words once again spilling out in an uncharacteristically haphazard fashion. He gives a little smirk. He makes her nervous.

But the smirk slides right off his face when he realizes that he's been sitting still for a little over twenty-two minutes.

He makes her move.

She stills him.

Maybe they could learn something from each other.

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><p><strong>AN: There you are! Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please review!**


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